


Redolent

by gracefulbees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:38:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulbees/pseuds/gracefulbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only Tuesday, but Castiel's guessing this week is going to be awful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redolent

Despite how much he wants a warm cup of coffee, Castiel is certain that there are far too many coffee shops in this town. He wanders into the third shop he passes, fully intent on ordering the largest black coffee they have available before he drags himself home and begins to attack the mountains of paperwork he hadn't gotten even close to finishing at the office. It's only Tuesday, but he's guessing this week is going to be awful.

With most of his coworkers taking time off to "enjoy the holidays" and "spend time with family," he's been left with a bulk of the work for the remainder of the quarter. It is, he supposes, one of the many downsides to managing a smaller company. While he doesn't _truly_ begrudge any of his cowers for it, he wishes that he'd had the foresight to hire extra hands to assist him before the season got busy. As it is, he's just glad that the line inside is short.

After obligatory small talk with the barista and a deep breath of the warm, rich smell of his coffee, he's feeling much more ready to deal with his responsibilities. Not ready enough, however, to push aside his (admittedly petty and childish) spite towards himself and his stress levels, driving him to take up a small table and simply _be_.

He figures that if he's going to procrastinate, he might as well do it properly. Unfortunately, the only way he knows how to procrastinate is to either people watch (which Charlie tells him can be creepy. He fails to understand why that is.) or by going running. And with the clouds outside promising snow, his already limited options become nonexistent.

Perhaps he should start reading more again. He used to read almost constantly a few years ago, let himself get swept up by the stories and characters. He would lose himself for hours. His worries and stress would drop away for a time, and the only thing he knew were the adventures of characters far more interesting than himself. Then again, that was before the company started taking off, leaving him a prisoner to his own job.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles him out of his thoughts.

"You okay, man?" Asks a deep voice.

Castiel blinked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uh, I don't know, because you've been sitting there for twenty minutes and you haven't even touched your coffee?"

Looking up, Castiel's only thought is, "You're very symmetrical."

"Oh, I don't drink coffee," He replies, rapidly glancing from the cooling cup in his hands to the man in front of him. "I dislike the taste." Only after he says it does he realize how strange that sounds outside of his head. "I, um, I just-" He tries to hastily explain himself, but the look on the symmetrical stranger's face appears mildly dubious at best, so he decides to cut his losses instead. If he's going to be known in this man's mind as the weirdo from the coffee shop, he's not going to skewer himself any further. He heaves a deep sigh and closes his eyes.

He figures the stranger will eventually give up and leave. He's surprised only moments later when the man sits down in the seat across from him.

"I'm  Dean," the man says, propping his elbows on the table.

Oh. Okay. If this _Dean_ is willing to make conversation, he can work with that. Conversation could be nice.

"Castiel."

Dean nods, "Okay, Cas. I'll bite. Why'd you come to a coffee shop and buy a coffee if you don't plan on actually drinking it?"

"I enjoy the smell," he answers, allowing himself a small smile.

Dean blinks, looking more perplexed than anything else.

"You like the smell? That's it?"

"Well, no--"

"Oh, good. That's good."

"My hands were cold, too."

Dean smirks and shakes his head, breathing out a light laugh. Castiel braces himself, waiting for him to either make some sort of crack or simply leave. He knows that he's come off as strange, and in his experience, his particular flavor of strange isn't often received well. Particularly not by symmetrical men. It could be worse, he supposes. A few moments of company ending bitterly is better than constantly being isolated, right?

"So if I took it from you, you'd probably be pissed, huh?"

 _What?_ Castiel squints at him, drawing his cup nearer to his chest.

"Were you intending to steal my coffee?"

Dean shrugs, "At first I wanted to see if you were alright, I swear. But you're fine, best I can tell. And you aren't drinking it, I'm out of cash, and I have shit to do tonight. So, yeah, uh, I was kinda hoping to charm it off of ya." His eyes dart to the tabletop, ears steadily turning a light pink.

"'Charm'?" He asks, "You mean steal through flirting?"

Dean grins suddenly, reaching across the table in a half hearted swipe for the coffee. Castiel glares harder.

"You know, Dean, you're not nearly as charming as you seem to think."

"Oh, I'm plenty charming," Dean mutters with a (not at all cute; that would be pathetic and distracting) pout. "Buy me a coffee and I'll prove it to you."

Castiel hopes that the rush of blood to his face isn't as noticeable as it feels. "If you hadn't spoken to me with the theft of as one of your motivations, I'd say that sounds like an invitation for an impromptu date."

Dean shrugs, "It could be, if you're interested in that sort of thing."

For a moment, Castiel is stunned to silence. No part of this conversation has gone in a way he's expected. He doesn't find it as inconvenient as he normally would. Which is surprising, he belated realizes. Typically, he expects things to go a certain way, and becomes agitated when they deviate from his mental script. But this, oddly enough, is nice. Actually, it's a little bit freeing. That thought gives him the confidence to smile at Dean.

"What if I buy you a fresh coffee, and you tell me what it is you have to do tonight, and this weekend you buy me dinner and we share even more awkward conversation?"

Dean meets his eyes smirks. "See, I was willing to say yes to all of that, right up until that last part. And I'd still say yes to most of it, but why's the conversation have to be awkward? Why can't it be fun and witty?"

Castiel huffs out a quiet laugh. Okay, maybe Dean is a little bit charming. But only a little bit. And sure, he'll begrudgingly admit that he's handsome as well as symmetrical. Then again, he did just ask the man out, so perhaps acting as if he isn't interested is counterproductive.

"Well I don't know, Dean. Are you capable of being witty?"

"I'll take that as a challenge."

"Good."

"Are you free Saturday night? Around seven?"

Castiel can't hold back his smile, but he tries. "Are you asking me for a second date before we've even had our first, Dean? That's a little presumptuous, don't you think?"

"You're the one who planned it." Dean leans back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. "That means I get to plan our third date. You put out on the third date? Or do you wait longer than that? Because I was thinking I could make you dinner, have some nice music, candles, it'd be this whole big thing. Or are you willing to put out on the first date? Because I can work with that."

"I'll answer that when we actually get around to the first date." He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out his phone. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black."

Castiel nods and unlocks his phone, setting it on the table. "Okay. Go ahead and add your number while I get your drink. When I get back, we'll talk and I'll text you my address for date number two." His confidence suddenly flees, leaving him floundering in his uncertainty. "Would... Um. Is that agreeable with you?"

"That'd be great, Cas."

As he walks away, Castiel has to try to smother his smile, lest his appear insane. If the look on the barista's face is anything to go by, he isn't successful.

Later, when snow is starting to gently fall outside and the shop is closing for the night, Dean rubs the back of his neck and looks at him from underneath his lashes. "So, I'll pick you up on Saturday?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

With the excitement and anticipation for Saturday night brewing in his mind, the long and tedious week ahead of him suddenly seems far more tedious than it did a few hours ago.


End file.
